Things Have Changed For Me
by Silver Weasley
Summary: Six drabbles about various Harry Potter characters, written for the Last Drabble Writer Standing contest on Livejournal. Ratings vary from K through Teen.
1. Challenge One

_This is a series of drabbles I wrote for a HP writing challenge called "Last Drabble Writer Standing" over on livejournal. I ended up being disqualified due to forgetting to turn one in, but I made it to the top five, so I felt pretty proud of these. Each drabble had to be between 100 and 499 words, and in order to challenge myself, I tried to write about characters I had little to no experience writing. Actually, the title of this "collection" is Things Have Changed For Me because of that--I've never written drabbles before, so this was a fun challenge. I hope you enjoy them! As always, reviews are absolute love. _

--

**Challenge 1:** All Was Well

All was well – or was it? For the first challenge, write a drabble that immediately follows the end of the epilogue of Deathly Hallows from the PoV of any canon character. The character must be someone who was at King's Cross that day, but does not have to be one JK Rowling explicitly mentioned.

**Title: **How the Other Half Lives

Scoripus had been gone only a few moments, and already, the ache in Astoria's heart had grown unbearable. Sniffing mightily, she turned away from the rapidly disappearing steam engine, folding her arms tightly across her chest.

"He's going to be fine." Draco's arm snaked around her waist in a surprisingly comforting gesture. "You'll see. When he owls us about his sorting, he'll be raving about the new friends he's made and the food and the castle. You remember how exciting your first night was—the boy will love it."

"My first night was miserable. Daphne was furious I wasn't in Slytherin—she told me I'd brought shame upon the whole Greengrass family just by being in Ravenclaw." Astoria sniffed again, reaching into her pocket for a handkerchief. "I'm sorry, Draco, I'm sorry. I'll just miss him."

"Of course, dear." Draco's grip on her waist tightened. "I will, too." Astoria nodded her assent and glanced up at her husband, smiling a little. Draco was a good man, no matter what people seemed determined to paint him as. She remembered the way he'd acknowledged his old school enemies just twenty minutes ago or so, and smiled.

"Wasn't that Harry Potter you nodded at earlier?" she asked.

"What does Potter have to do with anything?" Draco looked decidedly uncomfortable.

"I just thought it was a nice gesture." Astoria's smile widened. "I remember the way the pair of you fought at school."

"You didn't even know me then," Draco reminded her, starting to walk towards the platform entrance. "Come on, love, we should get home." Astoria kept pace with her husband, surveying him thoughtfully.

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One …Draco had always avoided his name in the time Astoria had known him and loved him. The boys had hated each other at school, and made no secret of it. Things like that didn't just disappear—more often than not, they festered over the years.

As if on cue, the various Potters and Weasleys walked in front of them, talking enthusiastically. Draco ducked his head and hurried Astoria along through the barrier, obviously wanting to get as far away from them as possible.

"Whatever happened, Draco?" Astoria wondered aloud. "Didn't you used to hate them?" Draco paused for a minute, turning to watch as the Potters and the Weasleys came through the barrier. His eyes followed Harry, Ron, and Hermione as they stopped for a moment, chatting idly outside the platform.

For a fraction of a second, Astoria was sure Draco would open up to her at last. Instead, he smiled a little, and merely said,

"Yeah…yeah, I did." He dropped his arm from around Astoria's waist, taking her hand in his. "Maybe some day, I'll tell you about it."

"I'd like that," Astoria whispered, squeezing his hand. "Come on, let's go home." Draco squeezed back, nodding his agreement.

Together, the Malfoys walked away from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, leaving the war, and its heroes, behind.


	2. Challenge Two

**Challenge 2:** Choices

Write a drabble in which a canon character is faced with a choice.

**Title:** P.S.

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_I can't wait to see you in a few weeks, I've missed you so much! How are you both doing?_

_Well, you asked if anything was new…and I happen to have a boyfriend now. He's absolutely wonderful, I just know you'll love him._

_His name's Scorpius. _

Rose groaned, letting her head fall to her hands as the quill slipped from her grip. Yeah right—it was _not _going to be as bloody easy as that. Dad was going to absolutely explode if—no, make that _when—_he found out. She could just see him now, his ears all red as he stormed about spluttering angrily about Death Eaters and _Malfoy_ and _bloody pureblood supremacists. _

Merlin, her father was a right pain in the arse when he wanted to be.

Resolutely, she crumpled the piece of parchment into a ball and tossed it onto the desk beside her. Picking up her quill, Rose began again.

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_It's getting so cold here—it started snowing this morning! I can't believe it's already December…and my seventh year, too! Everything is going by so fast._

_Well, I love you, and I can't wait to see you!_

_Love, _

_Rose._

_Ps. I'm dating Scorpius Malfoy. _

Rose threw her quill down, swearing under her breath. Like that was so much better than the first try—at least that time, she'd eased them into it.

"Fine," Rose muttered. "Fine, I won't tell them. I'll save it for over the hols…probably the best choice, really…" Hurriedly, she scratched out the post-script, then set about sending it off with Chudley, her owl, and figured done was done.

When she saw Chudley flapping towards her the next morning, Rose choked on her pumpkin juice, and Scorpius, who always ate at Gryffindor table now, swore.

"But how did he find out?" Rose whimpered as Chudley dropped the envelope on her plate.

"Hell if I know, but we best get out of here before it—"

"**ROSE MURIEL WEASLEY!**"

"—explodes," Scorpius whispered in horror.

"He _had _to use the middle name," Rose muttered, her face already buried in her hands. "Oh God, Dad, _why_?"

"**THIS IS THE FIFTH DETENTION IN THE LAST THREE MONTHS! YOUR MOTHER DOES NOT APPROVE—I MEAN, YOUR MOTHER AND **_**I **_**DO NOT APPROVE—OF YOU SELLING FIRST YEARS YOUR UNCLE GEORGE'S UNTESTED PRODUCTS!" **A pause. "**Oh, hmm…seems I've read this wrong—it's **_**Hugo **_**who's been getting into all that trouble. Well, just pretend this letter was addressed to you, Hugo. Your mother and I are very, very upset. VERY.**" Another pause. "**Oh yeah, and P.S..**" Dad was laughing now. **"Rose, you might want to consider using Ink Dissolver next time you write something in a letter you don't want me to read. That new Revealing Serum of George's really did the trick. Honestly, **_**SCORPIUS MALFOY? **_**" **

The laughter that followed the Howler ripping itself to shreds followed a humiliated Rose everywhere she went for three solid days.


	3. Challenge Three

**Challenge 3:** The Final Battle

Write a scene from the final battle that features a canon character other than Harry.

**Title:** into the dark

Students' ragged screams echoed in her ears, red and green and white streaks of light blazed past her, her left arm was dangling broken, useless, at her side—and Remus was dead.

He lay flat on his back, eyes staring unseeingly at the Great Hall's starry ceiling, his wand still resting in his palm. Tonks was numbly aware of the trickle of blood running down his cheek, of the clean rip in his robes, the way his legs splayed in impossible directions.

The world crumbled around her as Minerva's Stunner mixed with a Death Eater's _Avada Kerdava_, the wall right in front of her exploding, showering stone and dust everywhere. Somebody shoved past Tonks with a sharp elbow to her ribs, the metallic taste of her own blood filled her mouth, she could see the full moon, bright and sad and _wrong_, looming above the chaos outside the gaping hole in the wall—and Remus was dead.

One foot in front of the other, one painful, traitorous breath at a time, she made her way to him. Her knees hit the ground first, her upper-body pitching forward painfully, her wand slipping from her grasp. Her hand found his lifeless one, clenched down upon it with absolute desperation.

Dimly, Tonks was aware that she was screaming.

The battle around her swelled, a little girl was crying out for her mother, Tonks was still screaming, Bellatrix LeStrange had stepped up behind her, wrenched her wand high, spat out a triumphant _Avada Kerdava!_—and Remus was dead.


	4. Challenge Four

**Challenge 4:** Hogwarts Letter

Write about the first time a canon character other than Harry recieves their Hogwarts letter.

**Title: **lights will guide you home

It was too cold for July. Neville shivered beside the open window, clenching his fists in his pockets, hot tears welling in his eyes as he stared unblinkingly into the pitch black sky.

It wasn't going to come.

Gran had stormed around the house all day, doing housework by hand, clanging her pots and pans, scrubbing the kitchen floor, all the while muttering under her breath, "It must come, it must—he bounced headfirst out of a window, and not a mark on the boy…"

Neville had manned his position as soon as the sun had come up, wandering throughout the day from window to window, gnawing on his fingernails nervously.

This was the last possible day Hogwarts would send it, Gran had been quick to inform him the night before. If it didn't come now, it never would.

Resisting the urge to bury his face in his hands and sob, Neville slowly made his way to where Gran was perched in the sitting room, reading a copy of _The Evening Prophet_.

"I'm going to bed," Neville whispered. "Good night." Gran glanced up at him, and for a fraction of a second, the despair in her gaze frightened him. She opened her mouth, closed it, and then sighed,

"Good night, Neville." Gran paused, lips pursed dryly, and then rose from her armchair, withdrawing a thin, brightly-wrapped box from her robes. "Happy birthday," she said stiffly. It was the first time she'd said it all day. "I'd meant to give this to you after—well…it…it doesn't matter, boy. Open it." Neville hesitantly accepted the present, managing a smile.

"Thanks, Gran," he said, peeling away the Snitch-covered paper. The box within was a deep, cherry-colored wood, emblazoned with a golden, curly-cued 'L.' Neville's mouth went dry.

No. She _wouldn't _have.

He opened the box disbelievingly, fingers trembling, and found a polished wand.

"But…" He stared wonderingly at it, longingly. "…But I'm—"

"Nonsense," Gran snapped. "Your father would want you to have it."

Neville swallowed against the lump in his throat, staring reverently down at the unexpected gift.

"Thank you," he whispered. "I love it." Gran smiled at him sadly from her chair.

"I knew you would," she answered simply. Neville set the box down on the coffee table, picked the wand up carefully, holding it experimentally in his hand. It seemed to fit there perfectly. "Well, go on then," Gran said. "Give it a wave."

Neville swallowed again, mentally preparing himself for the crushing disappointment; he closed his eyes, drew a breath, and drew his arm out in an exaggerated flourish.

Purple sparks shot out of the end.

Gran gave a yelp of surprise, and Neville almost sent the wand sailing across the room in his shock.

"I don't believe it," Gran breathed. "I don't—"

At almost that precise moment, an owl swooped into the room through the window in the hall, and dropped a letter, sealed with the Hogwarts crest, at a flabbergasted Neville Longbottom's feet.


	5. Challenge Five

**Challenge 5:** The Scientist

Write a drabble that either features a lyric from the Coldplay song "The Scientist," or incorporates the meaning of the song.

**NOTE: **Mine incorporates both a lyric and the meaning.

**Title:** Back to the Start

The woods were just as he'd remembered them—sprawling, full of towering trees, sparsely beautiful. This wasn't a thick, dark forest, like the forbidden one at school.

Severus stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trousers, and stared gloomily around. If he hadn't managed to botch everything up a few months back, Lily would already be here with him, lounging under their favorite tree, waving her summer homework around in his face, complaining about Petunia…

As it was, she wouldn't even look at him. The train ride home in July had been absolutely miserable—Severus had sat alone, staring gloomily out the window. Usually, he'd have been holed up with Lily, sharing sweets, laughing, maybe debating the best potions ingredients.

Lily had made it perfectly clear to him: it was over. Seven years of friendship….gone.

Now, here he was, and Merlin, it was so bloody hard to think that this was the place his friendship with Lil really began—that this was where she'd chosen to talk to him after that first meeting, that _this _was where they'd shared hours of their childhood. That he'd almost kissed her here during Christmas...and that maybe, she might have kissed him back.

The worst part of it all was that Severus supposed he'd known all along it would have to end like this. From the beginning, they had been polar opposites, he and Lily; she was radiant, beautiful, bold…and he was all dark, dingy and skulking, squinting in disbelief at her brightness. It came down to their differences—perhaps it was true, what everyone said…perhaps Slytherins and Gryffindors really couldn't mix. And still, he'd hoped…

_I'm shaking_, Severus realized, staring down at his trembling hands. He sunk to the ground slowly, resting his back against the broad trunk of a tree, letting his face fall to his hands.

She wasn't going to come—he'd known that all along, too. Since they'd first gone to Hogwarts, they'd met here the evening before school started at exactly 7 pm. Even though Lily hated him now, he'd thought maybe…

Quite suddenly, there was a sharp crack from behind him. Severus scrambled to his feet, spinning around just in time to see Lily's wide green eyes staring at him, disbelief written across her pretty face.

"I didn't think you'd come," Severus managed hoarsely.

"Me either," Lily said, voice breaking a bit. "I suppose it's habit now."

"Lil—"

"I don't want to hear it, Sev." She took a step away. "Just…don't."

"Can't we go back to the start?" Severus asked before he could stop himself. "Please, Lily. You don't know how sorry I am—I'd do anything if you'd just…" He trailed off as Lily met his gaze almost painfully, eyes bright with unshed tears.

"There's no going back, Sev," she whispered. "Not from this one."

He watched her go silently, hands still shaking, a sour taste filling his mouth, as what was left of his sad, hardened heart broke just the tiniest bit more.


	6. Challenge Six

**Challenge 6: **Twists and Turns

Write a drabble that feautres a major plot twist.

**Note: **I originally wanted to use this plot for a longer story, but it worked here, and I was pressed for time.

**Title:** The Usual Suspect

Nobody was quite sure where the fireworks came from at first.

They seemed to appear out of thin air, going off sporadically during classes, dinner, in the Slytherin dormitories, at one in the morning—it never seemed to end. The entire student body was lectured at least ten times the first week, and when no one came forward, teachers started calling all the usual suspects in for questioning and randomly taking away house points, depending on what group of students had been spotted nearest the source of the rogue fireworks.

This led to no answers, an increase in fireworks, and, strangely, all the house point hourglasses being emptied of their jewels and filled with chocolate pudding.

Minerva McGonagall was the first one to suspect that perhaps this was not the work of a hapless student.

She found Nearly Headless Nick the third time a round of firecrackers woke her up in the middle of the night, following a nasty hunch. Gryffindor House's ghost was drifting along outside the library when Minerva, clad in her favorite tartan robe, marched up to him.

"Where is he, Nick?" she barked. Nearly Headless Nick surveyed her warily, eyes darting nervously.

"I wanted to tell you, Headmistress!" Nick said hastily. "I did! But the Bloody Baron said it was no business of ours to meddle…I tried reasoning with the boy, but it's no use. He makes Peeves look like a timid, unsuspecting Hufflepuff first year!" Minerva sighed heavily, rubbing her temples.

"I'll repeat, Nick: where _is _he?"

--

Minerva found him on the third floor, floating aimlessly along the corridor. He turned when he heard her footsteps, and his hair was just as fiery red as it had been in life.

"Hullo, Professor," he said, grinning as irreverently as always. "I wondered when you'd figure it out."

"Mr. Weasley." Minerva rubbed her temples again. "Why…?"

"Long story short," Fred Weasley said lightly, "I like it better here. Got to make sure no cheeky little git out-pranks good old George and me." Minerva didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"I just have two questions," she said after a moment. "One: where did you get the fireworks?"

"We stashed a big supply of them in one of the abandoned secret passages." Fred chuckled reminiscently. "We're bloody lucky nothing set them off before now."

"Quite," Minerva agreed dryly. "Now, two: when are you planning to stop driving us all barmy?"

"Never," Fred replied, his smile widening. "That's what I'm here for, isn't it?" Minerva rolled her eyes despairingly.

"See that you stop waking me at three in the morning, at least," she said, turning to leave. "Good

night, Mr. Weasley."

"G'night, Professor!" Fred called after her. "Don't worry. I'm planning to use up the rest of the fireworks tomorrow in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. I've been saving these ones for last—they're waterproof, you know."

Despite herself, Minerva McGonagall chuckled fondly, heart aching a little less, and left Fred Weasley to do what he did best.


End file.
